


A Silverite Dagger In The Hand

by GaHoolianGirl



Series: A Warden and his Assassin [15]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (I mean endings chronologically I still have more I want to write), Angst, Blood and Gore, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Liberties taken on the appearance of darkspawn blood, M/M, Mercy Killing, No Happy Endings For Grey Wardens, Read the A/N for further explanation, So there are two endings to this series and this is one, This is an absolutely dismal fic honestly, Well it's...weird blood you just have to see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 23:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11046615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaHoolianGirl/pseuds/GaHoolianGirl
Summary: Gideon dropped to his knees on the forest floor, clutching his gut as he heaved up black, vile fluid. His skin had a ghostly pallor, his blackened veins pushing up against his skin to the point of visibility. The whites of his eyes slowly dwindled until only black pits remained in their wake, left to gaze up hopelessly at Zevran.





	A Silverite Dagger In The Hand

**Author's Note:**

> So like...yeah, this is not fun times. I'll explain myself fully in the bottom note, but be warned for a bad time.
> 
> (I will explain now though that I describe darkspawn blood as black and thick, even though in canon it's not that much different from human blood. But come on, is the image of spitting up blood or spitting up tar more disturbing? I also take the concept of what the Calling does and change it (I made it much quicker acting than it is in canon), but it fits the fic and that's all that matters.)

Gideon dropped to his knees on the forest floor, clutching his gut as he heaved up black, vile fluid. His skin had a ghostly pallor, his blackened veins pushing up against his skin to the point of visibility. The whites of his eyes slowly dwindled until only black pits remained in their wake, left to gaze up hopelessly at Zevran.

“Not yet...” pleaded Zevran, dropping to kneel beside his lover, “I can see the great gates in the distance. We are so close. Please.”

“I can't go on, love,” Gideon choked out, managing a pained and rueful smile.

Zevran’s grip on his shoulders tightened, holding his lover’s head against his chest. Of every possible outcome that could happen, this was by far the worst; Gideon wasting away in his arms a dozen yards from the gates of Orzammar, leaving Zevran with only one option.

Gideon wheezed, clutching Zevran’s chest, “D-Do you have it?”

A pause.

“I do indeed.”

“Do it. P-Please.”

“You are so very cruel to me, my dear,” Zevran said with the ghost of a smile. Gideon smiled, reaching an unsteady hand down to pat at Zevran’s dagger scabbard. Contained within was a silverite dagger, guaranteed to kill a darkspawn.

Or a human with the taint.

The Warden gasped, coughing up more inky blood all over the assassin’s chest.

“You have to do it soon!” he shouted with his strained voice, which was slowly morphing from it's baritone to something gravelly and inhuman, “If you wait any l-longer, I'll...”

Shaking his shoulders gently, the assassin felt tears well up, “Stop speaking, please. Please.. _Please_!”

“Kill me. Please. Please. _Please_!”

Their pleading overlapped until their voices had risen to a shout and then ceased when their cries had become indistinguishable from each other’s.

“I love you.”

“Do not, not now-”

The Warden put a hand to the assassin’s face, smearing his black sludge like blood down his cheek in his fond gesture, “I love you with all my heart. Now kill me.”

The assassin raised a shaky hand that had unconsciously grabbed his dagger, and pressed it against the Warden’s throat, holding it there. There was no trace of steadiness in his voice when he spoke again.

“Goodbye.”

“Thank you.”

He pressed in and drew his hand horizontally.

The assassin knew from experience that what usually happened when you slashed a living being’s  throat was that from it spewed bright red blood, but the taint had so changed the Warden’s internal fluids that it was a substance more like tar, thick and viscous.

It dripped over his arm, and his mind showed him memories of twenty years ago, hacking and slashing away at darkspawn, and scrubbing this same blood from his armor.

In the Warden’s last moments of consciousness he smiled, mouthing the words as he had no throat to speak.

“I love you.”

There was a thud, and the Warden fell onto his side, having breathed his last.

Zevran sat back on his haunches, letting the dagger slip from his filthy hands.

Twice.

Twice had he killed his love.

Once by apathy and now by his own hands.

When he looked up he saw the proud gates of the Dwarven capital standing tall, beckoning forward the Warden who would never come.

He leaned down, pulling up the Warden's head to cradle it gently in his lap. His touches were tender and soft, as if he was just caressing a sleeping babe rather than a dead man. The Warden’s body was quick to turn cold, faster than a normal living being, which was unsurprising as he was barely human when he died. Leaning down, Zevran placed a soft kiss on the deceased’s clammy, frigid forehead, lingering for a moment despite the foul smell that accompanied the death of all darkspawn. Tears rolled down his cheeks (which were painfully warm compared to everything else around him) for the first time in years, and he let them flow without a second thought. Who was here to see him weak?

He spared a glance to the side, taking in the sight of the dagger, which looked more like it had been dipped in tar rather than used to kill. He had put aside the title of assassin many years ago, but had just taken taken his final job, fulfilled his final request. His hands had been rebloodied after many years spent cleansing them.

The noises of the Orzammar surface market could be heard in the distance, even over his quiet sobbing.

He picked up the dagger gingerly.

Orzammar would be getting neither a Warden nor an Assassin this day.•

**Author's Note:**

> So there are two ends for our hero; the die of the Calling or they find a cure. This is essentially the Bad End of this series. I have a Good End in mind but I was just feeling an angst mood. So this is canon for them but not the ONLY canon, you feel me?
> 
> And I'm not necessarily suggesting Zev is killing himself because Gideon's dead--- it's because _he_ had to kill Gideon. If Gideon had died in battle, or properly in Orzammar like intended he likely wouldn't have. But here he has the same gulit that he got from Rinna but _worse_ because he did the actual killing.
> 
> So yeah, that's that. I hope it you to read as much as it hurt me to write.


End file.
